Daniel Defoe: The devil and the watchmaker

Daniel Defoe by  Godfrey Kneller

I have much better Vouchers for the Story following, which I had so solemnly confirm’d by one that liv’d in the Family, that I never doubted the Truth of it. There liv’d, in the Parish of St. Bennet Fynk, near the Royal Exchange, an honest poor Widow Woman, who, her Husband being lately dead, took Lodgers into her House; that is, she let out some of her Rooms in order to lessen her own Charge of Rent; among the rest, she let her Garrets to a working Watchwheel-maker, or one some way concern’d in making the Movements of Watches, and who work’d to those Shop-keepers who sell Watches; as is usual.

It happened that a Man and Woman went up, to speak with this Movement-maker upon some Business which related to his Trade, and when they were near the Top of the Stairs, the Garret-Door where he usually worked being wide open, they saw the poor Man (the Watch-maker, or Wheel-maker) had hang’d himself upon a Beam which was left open in the Room a little lower than the Plaister, or Ceiling: Surpriz’d at the Sight, the Woman stop’d, and cried out to the Man who was behind her on the Stairs that he should run up, and cut the poor Creature down.

At that very Moment comes a Man hastily from another Part of the Room which they upon the Stairs could not see, bringing a Joint-Stool in his Hand, as if in great Haste, and sets it down just by the Wretch that was hang’d, and getting up as hastily upon it pulls a Knife out of his Pocket, and taking hold of the Rope with one of his Hands, beckon’d to the Woman and the Man behind her with his Head, as if to stop and not come up, shewing them the Knife in his other Hand, as if he was just going to cut the poor Man down.

Upon this, the Woman stopp’d a while, but the Man who stood on the Joint-Stool continued with his Hand and Knife as if fumbling at the Knot, but did not yet cut the Man down; at which the Woman cried out again, and the Man behind her call’d to her. Go up, says he, and help the Man upon the Stool! supposing something hindred. But the Man upon the Stool made Signs to them again to be quiet, and not come on, as if saying, I shall do it immediately; then he made two Strokes with his Knife, as if cutting the Rope, and then stopp’d again; and still the poor Man was hanging, and consequently dying: Upon this, the Woman on the Stairs cried out to him. What ails you? Why don’t you cut the poor Man down? And the Man behind her, having no more Patience, thrusts her by, and said to her. Let me come, I’ll warrant you I’ll do it; and with that runs up and forward into the Room to the Man; but when he came there, behold, the poor Man was there hanging; but no Man with a Knife, or Joint-Stool, or any such thing to be seen, all that was Spectre and Delusion, in order, no doubt, to let the poor Creature that had hang’d himself perish and expire.

The Man was so frighted and surpriz’d, that with all the Courage he had before, he drop’d on the Floor as one dead, and the Woman at last was fain to cut the poor Man down with a Pair of Scissars, and had much to do to effect it.

Daniel Defoe: The Apparition Of Mrs. Veal

This thing is so rare in all its circumstances, and on so good authority, that my reading and conversation have not given me anything like it. It is fit to gratify the most ingenious and serious inquirer. Mrs. Bargrave is the person to whom Mrs. Veal appeared after her death; she is my intimate friend, and I can avouch for her reputation for these fifteen or sixteen years, on my own knowledge; and I can confirm the good character she had from her youth to the time of my acquaintance. Though, since this relation, she is calumniated by some people that are friends to the brother of Mrs. Veal who appeared, who think the relation of this appearance to be a reflection, and endeavor what they can to blast Mrs. Bargrave's reputation and to laugh the story out of countenance. But by the circumstances thereof, and the cheerful disposition of Mrs. Bargrave, notwithstanding the ill usage of a very wicked husband, there is not yet the least sign of dejection in her face; nor did I ever hear her let fall a desponding or murmuring expression; nay, not when actually under her husband's barbarity, which I have been a witness to, and several other persons of undoubted reputation.

Now you must know Mrs. Veal was a maiden gentlewoman of about thirty years of age, and for some years past had been troubled with fits, which were perceived coming on her by her going off from her discourse very abruptly to some impertinence. She was maintained by an only brother, and kept his house in Dover. She was a very pious woman, and her brother a very sober man to all appearance; but now he does all he can to null and quash the story. Mrs. Veal was intimately acquainted with Mrs. Bargrave from her childhood. Mrs. Veal's circumstances were then mean; her father did not take care of his children as he ought, so that they were exposed to hardships. And Mrs. Bargrave in those days had as unkind a father, though she wanted neither for food nor clothing; while Mrs. Veal wanted for both, insomuch that she would often say, "Mrs. Bargrave, you are not only the best, but the only friend I have in the world; and no circumstance of life shall ever dissolve my friendship." They would often condole each other's adverse fortunes, and read together Drelincourt upon Death, and other good books; and so, like two Christian friends, they comforted each other under their sorrow.

Some time after, Mr. Veal's friends got him a place in the custom-house at Dover, which occasioned Mrs. Veal, by little and little, to fall off from her intimacy with Mrs. Bargrave, though there was never any such thing as a quarrel; but an indifferency came on by degrees, till at last Mrs. Bargrave had not seen her in two years and a half, though above a twelvemonth of the time Mrs. Bargrave hath been absent from Dover, and this last half-year has been in Canterbury about two months of the time, dwelling in a house of her own.